


A Candle in the Wind

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Consensual Somnophilia, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Isolation, Kidnapping, Loki and Tony are jellybeans, M/M, Necrophilia, Pseudonecrophilia, Pseudosomnophilia, Some Humor, Warning: Loki, Warning: Tony, outright non-existent morality, vampire!Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months have passed since the once terrifying house on Yew Tree Lane became Tony's salvation - but now Loki is getting bored and Tony offers to bring him some entertainment with dinner.</p><p>
  <i>Loki pulled out a thick book, cover black with a bright red apple cupped in pale hands. “Twilight?” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tony snorted oddly and seized for a moment. “Yes!” He gasped as Loki placed a concerned hand on his shuddering back. “It's a trilogy. Read all of them."</i>
</p><p>This is a sequel of sorts to usedupshiver's AMAZING (and amazingly dark) work <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4491465">His Dear Dead Flesh</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [usedupshiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/gifts).
  * Inspired by [His Dear Dead Flesh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491465) by [usedupshiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/pseuds/usedupshiver). 



> This is a sequel of sorts to usedupshiver's AMAZING (and amazingly dark) work [His Dear Dead Flesh](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4491465). So, obviously, if you haven't read it... why are you still here? :D Go! It's wonderful!
> 
> Also, while this fic has some decidedly creep-tastic themes, it's actually fairly fluffy. Well, **I** think so. As fluffy as you can get with these two, at least.

* * *

Tony watched as Loki picked through the massive bookshelves – his long, pale fingers would brush the withered spine of one, only to snap back. Loki tsked, shook his head, and with pursed lips, continued his hunt.

Of course, Loki was far more used to hunting things that wiggled and moved and bled under his sharp fangs; four centuries living had taught the vampire patience, but not decisiveness.

In the twenty odd years Loki had been trapped in the house, he had devoured each and every book a hundred times over, even if the reading had been slow going the last seven years, eyelids weighed down by starvation.

Until Tony walked in like a Christmas gift, lured by the hope of theft and the haunting call of the house itself.

“Need something new to read, huh?” Tony said from his place on the couch, legs thrown over the arms and a little game system beeping under his twitching thumbs. “I can get some books on my next run.”

“I would appreciate that,” Loki sighed. Tony always brought Loki back a present of some sort, seeing as how Loki's own spell prevented him from leaving the house; trapped by the very magic that was supposed to be his spider's web catching flies. Before, the lack of anything else to do had Loki reading the same lines over and over until he could dictate the entire book from memory. Now, though, the promise of new entertainment refused to allow him that comfort – he simply could not settle in with the same old, same old when there was the scent of fresh meat on the horizon.

“Well,” Tony laughed, “Hell. I'll pick up a classic next time. Wait until you sink your fangs into Dracula.” And yes, the vampire jokes were _completely_ necessary in Tony's opinion. Loki quickly learned that the best way to punish the mortal for a particularly foul pun was simply falling asleep somewhere his body was inaccessible for Tony's daytime use. Nothing left Tony in a fouler mood, and nothing amused Loki more.

Loki wrinkled his nose, debating whether or not that one was bad enough to deserve punishment. He shrugged. “I've read it. I found it dry.”

“Dry. You found Dracula to be _dry_ ,” Tony repeated flatly. Again, Loki just raised an elegant and careless shoulder. Nevertheless, a grin split over the mortal's face, but Loki raised a hand as Tony opened his mouth. The effortless gesture warned of Tony's dancing on thin ice – and Tony shut his mouth with a satisfying clink of barely sharpened teeth.

Poor little thing. Loki sometimes felt a twinge of pity; no wonder Tony had to eat from boxes and cans and plastic – he could hardly rip a throat out with those precious tiny canines of his. Like a child. Loki smiled indulgently at his mortal's scowl. “I would enjoy more reading material, yes.”

“Yeah, alright. Boy or girl tonight? Any preference?”

“None.”

“I'll head out around noon, then.”

And that was that – Tony would bring books and a nice meal, how _romantic_. Loki beckoned Tony over and let him slide under his arm as they settled in, Tony still playing on his electrical device and Loki still pondering what he would read in the few hours of night he had left.

Though Loki lacked the sexual drive that spurred Tony on, even he had to acknowledge the enjoyment he gained from being together. It was an instinctual response, his body seeking the warmth of a mammal, of prey, but the months had whiled away the sharp focus that came with being so near. All that remained was a nice torpor.

Was that normal? He remembered being comforted by his human mother's touch, but Loki had not yet gone through his change then, and in his blood lust he killed her before she might touch him so tenderly again.

Loki inhaled the scent of prey and the spicy soap Tony insisted on using. How annoying it must be, sweating and shedding everywhere, though that had lessened somewhat with Tony's regular intake of Loki's blood. Not that he would ever become as Loki was – such beings were born, not made – Tony could still aspire to be _like_ Loki.

A mouse dreaming of being a cat.

Still, Loki supposed as he brushed Tony's hair back, stranger things had happened.

–

Loki woke the next night with a familiar stickiness seeping from between his thighs and, somewhat unusually, a strong, bitter taste in his mouth. Loki snorted when he realized what the gooey substance on his tongue was. The gall of that mortal, _honestly._

He spied a glass of water on the bedside table, standing as a silent apology, and reached for it gratefully. Loki swished out his mouth and swallowed for a lack of anything better to do, not really desiring to spit up all over the nice carpet under his feet.

A thump sounded out dully, creeping up from the basement to the master bedroom on the third floor. Loki's ears twitched and a thrill ran through his body. A female, Loki deduced, picking up the faint trace of menstruation in the air. He wondered if Tony's senses had honed enough to smell it, too. He wondered if Tony cared at all.

Most likely not. Oh, but was his mortal so _delightfully_ twisted, so beautifully _wretched_ – fascinating and lovely, they were a fit match. Loki, who wore his monstrosity with pride, and Tony, who hid that alluring darkness under a handsome face.

Loki hummed to himself as he laid out some nice clothes to wear. Sure, he could go and greet their guest naked as the day he was born, but where were the manners in that? She would be staying for some days; there was no need to be rude. A healthy female victim usually lasted around a week before Loki drained her dry, and Tony only brought him the best men and women, the most beautiful.

There was an underlining motive, of course.

He walked slowly down the stairs, taking his time, savoring the building anticipation coiling tight in his belly. There was a time barely a year ago that he might have accidentally tore her apart in his haste to feed, but Tony had been good to him. Once a month without fail, Tony left on his errands and brought Loki back a proper meal.

Anticoagulant flooded his mouth and Loki's nostrils flared as he descended into the basement, his only outward reaction to the powerful scent of her blood. The basement was comfortably furnished, if somewhat shadowy – Loki had been caring for little pets for centuries, and he knew nothing put mortals more at ease than a sense of home. It wasn't as if she could escape; there were no windows and the door was coated in the same enchantment as the rest of the house. One could only leave if they intended to return and oh, did both Loki and Tony intend to do _just that._

Tony laid a hand on Loki's shoulder before taking his place by the door. Loki's dinner was laid out, staring at them both with terrified brown eyes. Her lower lip trembled, but her chin was bravely thrust out and she only barely flinched when Loki stepped towards her.

“What is your name?” Loki inquired in soothing tones, already weaving a spell of calm over her racing heart. He could ear the pounding in his head like a siren's song. “Hm? Do not be frightened.”

The woman – girl, really, her face still tenderly rounded with youth – blinked at him, eyes huge. “Mmm-mm,” she inhaled deep, steady, and with her exhale the spell forced out her anxiety. Her eyelids drooping, she even managed a thick smile and a halfhearted wave, the movements slow, like she was submerged in molasses. “Mary.”

“What a lovely name,” Loki murmured, mostly to cover the binding of new magic. Now that he was close to her, he could smell the acrid scent of drugs in her veins. Not uncommon. Mary would keep for a few days while her body worked out the toxins.

Pleasantly, as though he were discussing the weather, Loki laid out her role as a living buffet table, and she nodded along with a stupid look on her face, as placid as a sheep being led to slaughter. Next time, Loki might instruct Tony to let the victim run free. As easy as the environment and the magic made this, Loki was craving... some kick. A little fight. The red flush of lifeblood rising to the surface of their skin, heated and frenzied and so delicious.

Loki could play the kind gentleman until the sun burnt out, but the predator in him was howling for a good chase. He side-eyed Tony, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Maybe. Later.

Tony was staring at the girl with a kind smile, but there was a hunger in his gaze – for five nights, Loki would drain this girl, this _Mary_ , until her soul burst bright on his tongue and her eyes faded... and then she was Tony's. Tony, who would savor with her for five days of his own. Tony, who would hold her gently and whisper nonsense into her lifeless ears.

Beautiful, demented Tony – his own little monster.

–

“I got you some books,” Tony called in a sing-song voice as he rummaged in the kitchen for some food. He always cooked extra for Loki – not that Loki could digest anything but blood. Still, Loki would chew and taste the offering, letting the juices flow over his tongue before spitting out the remains. He occasionally even declaring some as passable.

But Loki's favorite, by far, was the sugary rush of chocolate, reminding him of when he was still a little changeling boy. Loki would let the stolen heat of his body melt the sweet chunks into a sticky mess and passed the leftovers to Tony, kisses deep and reaching, until his mouth was clean and the scent of Tony's arousal hung heavy in the air.

“How many?”

“Five.” Tony motioned to the bag on the counter, refusing to face Loki. His shoulders trembled. Loki raised an eyebrow but rummaged in the plastic bag nevertheless. “Read the one on top first.”

Loki pulled out a thick book, cover black with a bright red apple cupped in pale hands. “Twilight?”

Tony snorted oddly and seized for a moment. “Yes!” He gasped as Loki placed a concerned hand on his shuddering back. “It's a trilogy. Read all of them. The other two were on sale.”

“Are you laughing, Tony?” Loki bent and nosed at Tony's neck, groaning as he let his fangs slide harmlessly over the jumping, pulsing artery. A warning. A promise.

Tony, the sentimental idiot he could be, shivered and actually leaned back against Loki, throat bared for more attention. “No. No, why would I?” Still, a wide grin was bubbling up his cheeks into apples, cheerfully flushed a healthy pink. “Go on. You'll love them, I promise.”

Gathering up his books, Loki left the kitchen and Tony had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop the eruption of giggles from breaking out.

“I heard that, Tony!”

–

“Tony, this book is _fascinating_!”

“Um.” Tony peeked his head out from the kitchen door, a wary set to his shoulders. “'Scuse?”

Loki thumbed through the pages eagerly, face alight with boyish charm. “Oh, sure, the dictation leaves something to be desired, but is this how you see our people? Utterly fascinating. How clever of this child, to reveal his true nature and still hide the remainder behind an affable front,” Loki gushed. _Gushed._ “How wonderfully _devastated_ this Bella will be...”

“That's...” Tony was at a loss, staring at Loki whose strange cat eyes were glowing with playfulness and mischief. “You're missing the point.” He said firmly with a shake of his head. “That's a terrible book, Loki. Stop reading it.”

“Such a precious child, this Edward Cullen. How sweet it will be when he finally sinks his fangs into that fool girl's throat."

And that was... getting uncomfortable close to their situation for Tony's taste. He scowled. “Put that crap down, Loki. He isn't going to kill her.”

Loki dismissed him through all three of the books, positive that at any moment, Edward was going to tear Bella limb for limb in some weird, vampiry poetic justice.

He was severely disappointed.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Mary passed away quietly, drifting off in a slumber while wrapped tightly in Loki's arms. She breathed out a word – _papa_ – and was gone. Loki's hands shook as he hefted her up and placed her limp body on the bed. He wasn't overcome with grief or any other such nonsense – did the wolf mourn the deer? - rather, he knew that Tony would be disappointed if any harm came to her body.

The corpse had to be perfect. And it was; already cooling and pale, the spark of life gone forever. Exactly like Tony wanted.

He stared down at her, face lax, and smoothed away a dark lock of hair on her forehead. Tony had done good; she had been quite the treat, and now it was time for his reward.

Loki clicked his teeth together, mouth tight. It was, after all, only fair.

The door inched open, creaking in a way that might have been disconcerting were Loki not the most powerful being this side of the country. “Hey,” Tony called, casual. “You done?”

Nearly a year come and gone, and they functioned as a well-oiled machine – Tony knew Loki's feeding habits by heart, and Loki knew... “Yes.” He glanced coldly at the dead woman. “Of course.”

Loki made to step around Tony, but was caught by a hand on his shoulder. “You, uh. You got a little...” Tony mimed wiping the side of his mouth with an easy smile.

Thanking him stiffly, Loki stalked away, not even bothering to clean the smear of blood on his lips.

–

Tony shut the door carefully, the ancient hinges not even squealing their displeasure. He inhaled deeply, the coppery tang of blood in the air only heightening his anticipation. There had been something plaguing his mind – a bitter seed burrowing into his heart and spreading out its sick roots.

Since the beginning of their – their partnership, Loki had not fed from Tony.

Loki still occasionally injected healthy blood, especially when pickings were slim, but...

There was something to be said about the sharp piercing of his skin, the actual tug he felt when Loki greedily slurped the blood from his veins. The act had been terrifying at first – every primal part of Tony's hindbrain was screaming for him to fight back, to struggle, to kick Loki away.

And he had, at first.

Tony cringed at the idea of offering his arm or neck for Loki until he watched how tenderly Loki cradled their victim's head. In an apparently unconscious expression of his pleasure as he fed, Loki hummed, a low and muted vibration that Tony swore he could feel in his bones. The man or woman's eyelids would droop and they would exhale against him, swooning, wrapped up so warm and safe. The embrace of two lovers.

It was intimate. It was _erotic_.

And since the steady income of fresh “donors,” Loki had not even expressed a desire to suckle Tony's neck, not even when Tony offered it willing, turning his head and arching, leaving the bronze column exposed for Loki's unending hunger.

Lost in thought, anxiety roiling in his belly, Tony pressed two fingers to Mary's jugular vein. The skin was cool and still, the jumping pulse gone forever. Smoothly his hand glided from her throat to the waves of brown hair twisted around her shoulders.

She was a touch young, but she was exactly what Tony had in mind – he knew from the moment he saw her in that dingy crackhouse that she was just what the doctor ordered.

Carefully he manipulated Mary onto her left side, facing him, and Tony crawled into the bed next to her. He nuzzled against her arm, small once more. For a while, Tony just laid with her, absorbing the comfort offered by her body, the soft pillow of her shoulder, the gentle fall of her hair. He could say anything, he knew, without the fear of reprimand or judgment; could pour out the deepest secrets of his heart and unburden his mind to her patient ears.

Subdued, Tony began to whisper. “Hey, mom. I've missed you...”

–

A heavy emptiness had settled over the living room. For the last hour, Loki had tried not to listen to the faint breathing downstairs, the gentle sounds of a doll being moved around.

Loki drummed his fingers against the arm of his favorite chair, impatient. His blood was singing with life, his muscles all screaming to jump and move, run and hunt. The fire in his limb made Loki jittery and his fingers pounded harder and harder, drilling eight indents into the sturdy wood.

In the basement, the noises stopped. Loki lifted his head, concerned – he should be hearing Tony's hushed sighs and whimpers, the grunts and rhythmic smacking of skin on skin. Loki should smell the heady stink of semen rising up even to here, permeating the house and reminding him of the sweet twilight hours when he would wake sticky and well-used. Loki strained his ears and yes! Just barely, so faint, he could hear Tony's heartbeat, slow and steady. Sleeping? Already?

That was unusual, to say the very least.

His sweet mortal would sate himself with lifeless flesh, and Loki would listen to the sacrilegious act, mind a fever whirl of how Tony must love that chilly body, so ideally suited for his needs...

Unlike Loki, who would rise only a few hours later. Was that awkward for him, to look Loki in the eye after a day of fervent use?

Loki startled – far from the tender chuffing of sleep, Tony had begun to speak. Leaning back in his chair, Loki craned his neck and listened. Mild and whispered words; tiny, inconsequential things of a silly boy looking for the love only a mother could give.

Words fluttered with black wings into Loki's ears, and the devil eagerly listened in. Tony spoke of fear, rejection – lamented unmarked skin and shuddered as he expounded on the aphrodisia that was watching Loki drink from another. Will he ever bite me again? Tony asked what had become Maria Stark. Am I not good enough?

And Loki almost laughed at the ridiculousness of this all – no, Tony was _too_ good, _too_ sweet on his wanting tongue, and Loki held back for fear of taking too much. The long centuries of Loki's life stretched before him long and lonely without this delightful twisted man at his side.

How foolish they both were, thinking there was anything else that could replace the other.

Hours later, for the first time in centuries, the dawn crept up on Loki.

–

Tony was roused from his light slumber by a heavy thump the floor above. He jolted up and checked his wristwatch – dawn had come, Loki should be resting in the bedroom. Panic spread through Tony like bolts of electricity and he tore out of the basement, stumbling and crashing.

Had someone sneaked in? Had the house lured another victim, as it had with him? If so, why? The set up was perfect, unless – unless Loki somehow reached out, wanting someone else, someone _fresh_ –

His bare feet slapped the hard wooden floors, ringing smacks that echoed throughout the quiet house. The sound had come from the sitting room, and that was Tony's destination as he careened around a corner, nearly banging his head on the wall in his haste.

What he saw was far more terrifying than an intruder.

Sprawled out on the ground was the comatose form of Loki and for one heart stopping moment, the only thought in Tony's head was _he's dead he's dead oh sweet fuck Loki's_ _ **dead.**_

Which was foolish, of course. At the moment, Loki _was_ dead, or at least, he was dead by almost every meaning of the word; he did not breath, his wasn't conscious to control the beating of his heart, his brain only functioned on the most basic level. Loki was dead.

This was a dance they had gone through every day for nearly a year; nevertheless, that didn't make the sight of Loki crumpled on the floor any less shocking.

Tony rushed to him, swearing, eyes wide and adrenaline coursing thickly through his veins. “Come on, come on,” he murmured as he wrapped Loki's arm around his neck. Seeing no other option, Tony picked Loki up bridal style, groaning as his knees protested with loud pops. “Motherfucker, Loki. You've gotten _fat_.”

He hoped Loki wasn't conscious enough to remember that comment.

Navigating the stairs was a challenge punctuated by wheezing and frequent stops to rest Loki's weight on the banister. Tony wasn't out of shape by any stretch of the imagination – he had even taken to working out, fascinated by his new found strength – but he suspected that Loki's muscles, now so nearly recovered from his nearly decade long starvation, were becoming far denser than a human's. That made sense; Loki wasn't moving faster than a blink or easy lifting a solid oak bookcase by sheer force of will.

Tony dropped Loki on the bed as carefully as he could and swore to just stick with manipulating the body around. That was far easy than outright lifting, god. Bending down, Tony examined Loki for injuries. Stripping him proved to be a trying task; it wasn't as if Tony could just cut away Loki's clothes. He might have a larger wardrobe now courtesy of one Tony Stark, but Loki had twenty long years of meticulously caring for his clothes and the habit had become rather ingrained.

Tony chuckled to himself, remembering how furious Loki had been when some blood stained his bright white undershirt. The shirt had just been one of those thin, flimsy ones all wrapped up in plastic and sold in the mens' underwear aisle, but the round drops of red left Loki scowling all night. Eventually Tony was able to slip another one out of the package and replace the stained shirt.

Finally, Tony managed to tug off Loki's socks, leaving him pale and bare. The sight was familiar, comforting even, and Tony couldn't help but swoop down to press tender kisses to Loki's smooth just-for-show nipples – like special secrets, just for him. He trailed down to that cute belly button – every bit as fake as the nipples, but still perfect in its own way. Reverent, Tony spread his hands over Loki's torso, basking in the chilly skin already leeched of stolen warmth. Oh, but it made Tony shiver and moan quietly, how greedily Loki tried to take the heat from others, only to have it disappear like morning dew in the sun. Sublime; god, Loki was just beyond compare. Whining low in his throat, Tony shifted on top of the body, pressed together, life and death. His fingers traced the unmoving arc of Loki's ribs and...

And Tony was getting distracted. Shaking his head, Tony had to bite the inside of his cheek until it burst hot blood into his mouth to calm himself. There was just no getting rid of his erection, but after a few moments to clear his head, Tony resumed looking for any signs that Loki might have been hurt prior to, during, or because of his fall.

“What happened, Loki?” Tony whispered. He didn't have to; Tony could probably yell right in Loki's ear with no response, but being loud just felt wrong. In all their months together, Tony had never known Loki to miss a sunrise. Usually he was in bed with thirty minutes to spare, and he was shift and squirm and huff like a child until he found a suitable position.

“Not that is matters,” Loki would gripe, “Since you never bother to return me to my place.”

And Tony would laugh and reply with twinkling eyes, “Maybe I just like seeing you with your ass in the air, Dracula.”

But there was no teasing now, no chuckles and pinching fingers. Tony couldn't find anything that might hint at Loki being hurt – though doubtless Loki would still manage to find something to complain about come nightfall.

Like the time he bitched about Tony not cleaning him up after use – only to change his tune a few nights later and berated Tony for wiping up his bottom, saying that he was “not a child and such an act was a blatant breach of privacy.” What the hell did that even mean – breach of privacy, his ass. Tony gave Loki a “breach of privacy” to complain about the next day, only... Loki hadn't. Loki hadn't even washed away the semen, instead parading the stink of it all around the house as he nonchalantly went about his business, with Tony following along like a panting puppy.

A vampire cat, that's what Loki was.

Tony pressed a kiss to Loki's forehead, and breathed in the smell of Loki and the faint – so very faint – scent of something foreboding, heavy like grave dirt. He groaned, mouthing along the hairline to Loki's neck. Loki seemed pretty okay and Tony – well, Tony was never one to waste an opportunity.

The slide into Loki's withered intestines was made all the easier by the expensive lube Tony procured. Wrapped up like this with Loki, chest to back, felt like home – he peppered pecks along Loki's still, broad shoulders, sighing at the limp hold engulfing his cock. Tony pawed at Loki's flaccid prick, groaning into his long hair. It was so smooth and rolled so wonderfully between Tony's fingers, a prize he had never dared hope for.

The roaring need to desecrate Loki's body was, as always, present. But Tony shoved it aside, content with his lazy kisses and nuzzling Loki's hair. His caresses were far kinder than anything he had ever shown a living partner, feather soft and earnest. There was none of the fumbling made awkward by heat or breathing, none of the sullen, angry thoughts about how he or she was only moments away from perfection.

Because Loki _was_ that perfection, Tony thought muzzily, rocking ever so slightly into the chilly body. Loki was everything Tony had ever needed. He smiled, still sort of dazed that this was his life, this wonder – Loki would never rot or stink, unlike the girl putrefying downstairs, and Loki would never be taken away. No, he vowed, arms tightening around Loki's torso. Tony said so once, twice, perhaps a thousand times, the words falling from his lips like ardent prayers as he spilled inside that beautiful corpse.

His and his alone; another immoral secret to keep safe, one that Tony welcomed.

–

Tony woke with an eerie sense of deja vu. Instead of Loki pulling him close and enjoying his “morning” with a drowsy cuddle, Loki was sitting on the far edge of the bed, as he had been some months ago when he first offered Tony his blood. The lean planes of Loki's back shifted as he turned to watching Tony with intense eyes, like the man was doing something infinitely more interesting than wiping up drool from his chin.

“Loki, are you alright–.”

“I heard what you said to the girl.”

Tony scrambled up onto his elbows, cursing. Honestly, you would think it'd be easy to remember how astute Loki's hearing was when he frequently located Tony by his heartbeat alone, but sometimes that just fell into the cracks. And now Loki was probably going to kill him – stupid, stupid, why did Tony think this could _last –._

Loki turned fully to take Tony by the shoulders and dipped his mouth to Tony's ear. The breath was cool and fresh as it wafted over his skin. “I desire to feed from you.” Tony startled, more from the words than anything feelings of fear. Loki's hands clamped down, holding him steady and growled, “ _And I will not be denied._ ”

Before Tony could even respond – why the _hell_ would he deny Loki – fangs were already sinking into his throat, the massaging of Loki's tongue to draw out more blood and long pulls shooting sparks right to his dick.

Tony could feel the rumbling from Loki's chest as strong arms wrangled him into Loki's lap. A hand drifted from his shoulder to palm the pulsing cock fighting against his trousers and Loki's hum – growl – purr – whatever got louder as Tony keened. He wanted to buck, wanted to hump against Loki's firm hand until he shot off, but the lassitude of blood loss and subtle chemicals from Loki's saliva was already weighing him down, down, lost in the moonlit blur of Loki's working mouth and incessant stroking.

Loki lifted off with a muttered swear in a language Tony didn't understand, and laved his tongue across the punctures in a slow, steady glide until the wounds began to close.

“You... heard?” Tony gurgled, eyes unfocused, a dazed smile pulling up his lips.

Loki hummed a confirmation, still licking around Tony's skin, now down to his shoulder. “Yes. Oh, I would drink from you every night if it wouldn't kill you.” Loki's hold wasn't releasing; if anything, Loki clung tighter, dulcet noises echoing in his deep chest as he writhed against Tony. It was the closest Tony had ever seen him come to true sexual arousal, his body alight with Tony's life.

“Especially,” Loki said huskily, “Like this.” And ground the heel of his palm harshly into Tony's groin, eliciting a shout that had Loki chuckling. “I can taste it. Your thirst. It is not so different from mine.” Loki's tongue was leaving pink streaks across Tony's skin that he was quick to lap back up.

“But I do not appreciate your scent.”

Tony huffed and sniffed his armpit before shrugging. “I smell? Well... yeah, I could use a shower, but –.”

“You smell like _her._ You come to me reeking of your conquests. No more.” Like the barely noticeable traces of rot lacing meat that had just turned bad. It was in Tony's skin, and Loki was determined that Tony would never again reek of it – by hook or by crook, Loki would bathe Tony in his scent. _His and his alone._ Loki's questing tongue caught Tony's pebbled nipple and Tony gasped, arching his chest. Confused, Loki blinked up at him.

Flushing, Tony mumbled, “Felt good.” Loki shook his head with a fond smile and nipped lightly over and over, until Tony nipples were glowing bright red in the pouring moon, two sore little nubs that Loki gave one more tortuous pinch, just to hear Tony swear some nonsense about vampires and cats.

When Tony babbled and finally pushed him off the bruised nipples, Loki continued his mission of eradicating all traces of Mary. Loki staked his claim with tongue and hands, constantly scenting Tony. Down, down, past the divot in Tony's belly, through a patch of fur infused with the heady odor of Tony and his sex until Loki reached what seemed to be the very core of warmth in Tony. His prick – blushing red and burning in Loki's hand, a glorious testament to how truly depraved his mortal was.

Curious, Loki licked a long stripe from balls to tip, and once more when Tony tried to scamper away with a swear.

“Goddamn, Loki, you can't just _do_ that!”

“Why?” Loki hummed, doing it again and grinning sharply when Tony jumped.

“Because...” Tony hesitated for a moment before motioned to his mouth, baring his adorable little teeth like he might actually be a threat.

“I will use caution.”

Without any other warning, searing heat swallowed him down, so careful, and yet Tony squirmed. It didn't feel right, not anymore; too hot. Loki raised an eyebrow at Tony's obvious discomfort, but said nothing when Tony, shamefaced, passed him the dusty old glass of water from the bedside. He drank it down, swishing the water around to thoroughly cool his mouth.

Such a precious, spoilt little thing.

The scorch of his mouth gone, Loki took Tony back between his lips. He had a needy urge to puncture the large vein, teasingly pumping blood not millimeters from his tongue. Tony had had such a strong reaction from his neck – would this please him? But vague memories hundreds of years old surfaced, dim explosions of pain from blows to the groin.

Perhaps not, then.

Under Loki's clumsy ministrations, Tony's hips flexed up, eager and wanton. Loki had no such experience with these matters beyond the polite euphemisms in his books, but Tony didn't seem to notice or mind; he had the sheets in a white-knuckled grip and could not seem to control the steady litany of filth pouring from his lips.

Still, Loki was not satisfied. He waited until Tony's heartbeat was like drums in his ears and the salty taste of seed became pronounced before he lifted his head. “Would you not rather be with your corpses?”

“What?” Tony said, strangled and whiny. The whites of his eyes stood out from the black and dilated pupils. “What? No.” Fucking – fucking vampire cat. Tony struggled feebly, desperate for Loki's chilly mouth, for the faint scrapes of fang on his skin. Danger and death and everything he had ever wanted –

“Mary is not more preferable than I?” Loki asked, voice like ice, hand pumping Tony's erection with maddening slowness.

“Fuck no, Loki – you're perfect, perfect – fucking perfection. You'll never rot away. You'll never be taken away – now please, _please –._ ”

Well, how could Loki say no to such politeness? What sort of gentleman would he be to leave Tony in such a state? Loki lowered his mouth back down to Tony and marveled at this sense of power. He could understand, objectively, why mortals had sex – for enjoyment, for love, to breed, to dominate – and while Loki felt no sexual pleasure for his act, it was rapidly becoming apparent just how much control he now had over Tony. That in and of itself was exciting enough for Loki.

Tony came with a shout, fists wound tight in Loki's hair, neck veins popping, a healthy flush from his cheeks to belly. Loki swallowed, not at all balking at the somewhat familiar taste. He smacked his lips together, weighing the properties of the semen he just ingested; revitalizing, but not as potent as blood.

“Oh, god,” Tony moaned, thumping his head back onto the bed a few times. “We are so fucked up.”

“Yes,” Loki affirmed, watching with mild interest as Tony's prick deflated before his eyes. He gave it a little poke. “But you cannot deny that we are as fit a match as a lock and key.”

Tony breathed out a tiny puff of laughter and lazily swatted Loki's hand away. “I was thinking... about getting more books for you. There's a series you might like.” He turned his face away to hide a devious smirk. “It's called Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“If that is another disappointing book series, I swear I shall lock myself away for a month.”

“On second thought,” Tony amended hastily, “I'll just get you Game of Thrones. Or American Gods. Hey, you liked Lord of the Rings, right? Well, the movies are fucking _amazing..._ ”

* * *

 


End file.
